Double Dutch (Do One Better)
by raaeebrucee
Summary: The Shield has officially parted ways and Bobbi Arlett has to cement her place in a male dominated industry. Away from the E, secrets have almost torn Bobbi and Dean apart before— this time, they're both hiding something. With the past haunting them in more ways than one, will their relationship survive the year? (Dean/OC) (Seth/OC) (kinda sorta kayfabe)
1. Chapter 1

**hello! welcome back to Bobbi and Dean's journey! (also, just so you know, the title of this was a pain in the ass to come up with, I had like three *could be* titles and I just liked this one more) to those who haven't already done so, check out the prequel to this called _Three's A Crowd, Four's A Party_ , a lot of shit happened which would probably help you understand this one much better! **

**For outfits (like Bobbi's new ring attire), check out my Polyvore (under the same pen-name I use on here, or there's just a link on my profile that hopefully works!), for general updates on this story, check out my twitter (again, should be a link on my profile).**

 **So, without this intro becoming too long, go forth and read! Let me know what you think x**

* * *

 _ **Double Dutch (Do One Better)**_

 **CHAPTER ONE**

She was moaning his name, pushing air she didn't have in her body from her lungs, her forehead creased, and Dean was shifting on top of her, thrusting and pushing and groaning into her breast, hot breath falling across her skin, and she didn't have the energy to hold onto him any tighter but _God_ did she want to.

"Oh, my God," Bobbi hissed, throwing her head back onto the pillow with another moan.

"I mean, I guess you could call me that if you wanted to," Dean huffed onto her chest, his clouded and sultry gaze burning into her eyes, dimples forming on his scruffy cheeks in exertion, and _God_ , Jesus Christ, her toes curled at the gravel in his voice and the look of his body on top of her. "You gonna come for me, huh?"

His hand was already moving from the bruising grip on her waist to the bundle of nerves at the base of her navel, barely managed to push a " _shut the fuck up_ " from her mouth before she was gasping and climaxing, her body shaking in pure bliss, mind lost in the pleasure of a seemingly endless rapture. Her walls tightened around his length and she could faintly feel his lips lock around her nipple, feel his movements become more erratic, and then he was almost collapsing into her body with release.

Moments later he was falling next to her, staring up at the roof with a peacefully satisfied look on his face, his mouth slightly curved, fluffy dirty blonde locks falling back onto the pillow.

Bobbi shifted on the bed and turned into him. Placed a gentle hand on his chest, curled her fingers over the soft patch of hair.

"I won't ever get tired of doin' that," Dean murmured, glancing down at her.

"What, having an orgasm?"

"Fuckin' you."

Bobbi rolled her eyes at him and shifted onto her ass, said "You're so romantic," before dragging the sheets with her as she stood up.

Even ass-naked on the bed, Dean didn't have any shame as he watched her pull on some underwear. " _What?_ " he squeaked, "I can be romantic! Flowers and chocolate and— other shit, right? That's what you mean?"

Bobbi stilled and raised an eyebrow at him. "Flowers and chocolate and other shit?"

"That's being romantic, isn't it?"

"Where's my flowers and chocolate and other shit, then?" she deadpanned.

Dean's mouth was gaping like a fish out of water and Bobbi tried not to laugh as she walked into the hotel bathroom, pulling on some street clothes while cataloging all the bruises and hickeys she'd have to ask Shannon to cover.

"If you want romantic, why don't we go on a date, then?"

"I think we kinda skipped the whole date thing and went right to the fucking, Dean."

"Yeah, but…" there was some shuffling and a grunt and then he was standing by the door frame with a pair of shorts on. "I mean, we skipped it. So we'll just go back and do all that corny stuff that you girls like."

Again, Bobbi found herself mimicking him with a smirk. "Corny stuff?"

"Like the movies and dinner, long walks on the beach, picnics in the park kinda thing."

His blue eyes were so wide and hopeful that Bobbi found it hard to _want_ to say no. So instead, she pushed up onto her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. "Whatever you want, Dean."

It felt like hours later. But it wasn't.

Bobbi was curled up again on the bed recovering from a gruelling workout, Dean stuffing his suitcase with clothes. She turned to him.

"How are you not plotting Seth's murder right now?" she murmured quietly. "You have trust issues just like me, but I'm the only one around here that seems to be— I don't know, reacting like this."

He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I'm mad at him for not tellin' us. But there's gonna be a time in that ring where I can beat the livin' shit out of him and get paid to do it, so I'll just wait. And in the meanwhile, he can kiss my ass and try and get back in the good books again. It was a mistake, the first he's made in— well, the first he's made with me _ever_. Fool me once…" Dean trailed off and sent her a reassuring grin. "Don't punish him too hard for doing his job."

—

 **SmackDown Taping**

 **June 10th, 2014**

 **Green Bay, Wisconsin**

It was the beginning of SmackDown and the remaining members of The Shield stood tall in the ring.

"I don't need to tell you what you already know, so I don't need to tell you what The Authority are trying to do, it's clear as day," Dean started their promo, fingers wrapped around the mic precariously. "Triple H, you think you hold _all_ the cards, you think you stacked the deck against _us?_ Well listen up, kiddo. We're not gonna wait for you to deal, we're gonna flip that table right over and we're coming for ya' throat. As for puppet suit Seth Rollins, my uh—" he turned to Roman with a smirk, "well, I guess he's not my brother anymore… my former _business_ partner? I'm shuttin' down the Seth Rollins business _for good_."

"What'd he say Monday night on RAW?" Bobbi asked the men in the ring. "That he _bought in_ to the evolution of Seth Rollins? _Well_ , Seth, I might be nothing more than another pretty face, but I think there's something else you should buy into called a _retirement village_ , 'cause when we're done with you, each of us individually, that's where you're gonna end up. Business partners, right? Always giving some top tier advice." The silver haired woman took a few moments to bite down on her sass, but it didn't really work. "Also, Trips, just so you know— I _did_ enjoy the change of scenery, I even took to doing your Pedigree— well, _better_ than you. When was the last time you sold a finisher like that, huh?"

Dean had the microphone back in his hands but was eyeing the pacing Samoan standing off to the side. "I know _that_ look," he motioned to the anger shifting in the pale depths, "I feel like you may have a message for another spineless corporate stooge… so why don't you give it to 'im?"

Roman smirked in response. "I hope you're enjoying your night off, Randy because when I get my hands on you, you're gonna want a permanent vacation. And like I said Monday night on RAW— you think you're the face of WWE, but you're not the face, you're the _ass_. And you're also just a spoiled little kid who gets whatever he wants from his— _daddy_ , Triple H. You didn't even qualify for the championship ladder match, you were just given the opportunity like everything else. But guess what? Everybody wants to be WWE Champion, and who knows— maybe Dean or I will just beat you to it."

"Or me!" Bobbi quickly mouthed, raising her shoulders with a half-assed shrug.

"Wow."

Triples H's voice came from no where and all the humour from Bobbi's face drained as she turned to stare at the tron above the entrance ramp. "Wow guys, that— that— I gotta hand it to ya', that _really_ sounds good, but unfortunately there are only so many slots available to _qualify_ for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship ladder match."

Beside her Dean was spitting words under his breath and she watched the way Hunter's face became smug. "I only really have one qualifying slot available and there are— two of you. It seems _really_ unfair. So there's only one fair way to decide who gets that shot." Held up in front of the screen was a silver coin. "You two are _brothers_ , I wouldn't want to do this any other way, so… here we go," he flipped the coin, then smiled as he saw the result. "Dean Ambrose! Congratulations, Dean Ambrose, _you_ get the opportunity to qualify tonight. I say congratulations kinda loosely because you're gonna go up against… _Bray Wyatt_."

Dean was still grumbling next to her, Roman reaching out a fist to bang the lunatic's chest softly.

"Oh and— uh, Roman? Bobbi? I know how you three like to do things _together_ , so uh, I'm gonna ban you from ringside and I'm gonna ban the rest of the Wyatt Family from ringside as well. And Dean, Bobbi, you might wanna just pick up your little things and leave the ring right now because _you two_ are banned from ringside for Roman Reigns' match. In fact, Bobbi since you're not going to be ringside or in a match, why don't you just take the night off, huh? Wouldn't wanna miss your _brother's_ matches, would you? 'Cause Roman… _I've got some bad news for ya._ "

—

Trying to find Filipa was like trailing after smoke— she'd slip through Bobbi's fingers at the last second, disappearing for ages at a time, returning when Bobbi was needed for an on screen moment.

As soon as her eyes locked on the elusive woman, she called out a " _hey!_ ", smiling when she turned around. "Drinks after?"

Filipa nodded. "Sure."

And so when Bobbi was in some street clothes, a droopy singlet that showed just a sliver of her toned stomach, heels that had her up at her usual height in the ring, Dean's eyes wouldn't leave her figure.

"Where you goin', toots?"

"Drinks with Filipa."

He stood from the chair and curved his fingers around waistband of her jeans, pulled her body in towards him with a smirk at his lips. "I don't get an invite?"

"Girls night, stud."

Dean ducked his head to press his lips against hers gently, hands slipping around to curl his fingers against the curve of her ass, and Bobbi found herself melting into his touch. "I can bring some of the guys, make it a post-work celebration. Let you two have your girl time," he breathed.

"Whatever you want," replied Bobbi, the woman already wrapping both arms around his neck and twisting her fingers through his freshly washed hair.

But when Dean winced, Bobbi pulled away quickly. "Hey— hey, you okay?"

"Did a number on my shoulder," Dean said quietly. He glanced down at the joint which had been the focus of Bray's attacks during the main event of SmackDown, slapped it a couple of times. "It'll be good tomorrow."

Pale eyes zeroed in on the bruise along his bicep, her fingers shifting to run over it softly. "Then she was gazing up at him. "You gonna get Doc to check it out?"

"Depends. If it's still givin' me grief by Friday, yeah."

"Good boy," Bobbi smiled, pressing another kiss to his lips. "Let's get crunk."

He snorted at her and grabbed the handle of his suitcase, wheeling it behind them as they made their way to the car park. "Did you just say _crunk?_ "

"Yep."

"Lame."

Almost twenty minutes later saw them pulling up outside a dingy looking bar. They were out of the car and pushing through the doors, greeting a few of the people that had accepted Dean's invitation to come out, ordering their choice of drink from the bar. Her eyes locked onto the Spanish woman she was supposed to be spending the night with and Bobbi leant forwards to kiss Dean's cheek, walking away from him to sit at the bar next to Filipa.

"Ready to get crunk?" Bobbi said with a smirk

Filipa cracked a smile at that, shaking her head. "Bring it."

"See, that's how you respond." When Filipa sent her a questioning look, Bobbi raised a shoulder. "Dean made fun of me for saying crunk."

The shorter woman snorted.

Conversation with her friend was surprisingly stiff. Small talk, talk about work. It wasn't hard to gulp down beer after beer when there was nothing to say. And when Seth pranced into the bar and and sat with a group of guys, smiling and laughing and occasionally glancing their way, Bobbi realised with a start that he was looking at Filipa. _Back_ at Filipa. Because her brown eyes were burning with lust, staring straight at him.

"I see the way you're looking at him, Pip."

She was silent, dark eyes staring down into her drink now.

"You remember what we talked about?"

"You mean what _you_ talked about?"

Bobbi recoiled. Her pale eyes narrowed at the woman who still wasn't looking at her. "I'm sorry?"

"You just— you just _assume_ you know what's best for everyone around you and then make us go by _your_ terms, by _your_ rules. Oh, Bobbi wouldn't like this, we have to do this because Bobbi said so—" Filipa broke off with a dark laugh and let her head fall onto her arms, dark eyes staring at Bobbi behind strands of hair. "If you weren't so blinded by your own problems, by your own love life, maybe you would have realised me and Seth were a long time coming."

Bobbi sat back with her eyebrows at her hairline. "Anything else you wanna get off your chest there, Filipa?"

"What if I don't wanna wait for what Leighla decides on?" The woman burst out, throwing her arms out wide, startling the bar tender. "The fact that she's _making him wait_ says a lot about her, especially when it was _just a kiss!_ "

"What happens when _just_ a kiss turns into _just_ a blow job? Or it turns into _just_ sex?"

Filipa was glaring. "He's not even happy with her."

"That's his choice to make, Pip."

" _That's his choice to make,_ " Filipa mocked her, turning her head to gaze back into the empty tumbler. "I mean, who gave him the right to look so _fuckin'_ cute with those puppy dog eyes, huh? Who gave him the _fuckin' right_ to say 'I just need someone to talk to' and then— and then _corner_ me and kiss me?!"

Bobbi stayed silent as her friend ranted, occasionally glancing at her.

"It's not like— not like I didn't want him to kiss me. But he goes, ' _I don't wanna say anything'_ and then kisses me and I have to— to be hush hush about the whole break up thing because he doesn't think…" Filipa trailed off. Almost like she was realising through her alcoholic induced haze who she was talking to.

But it hadn't been quick enough. "The whole break up thing?" Bobbi asked slowly. "What _whole break up thing?_ "

Filipa moaned, dropped her head back onto her arms again. "The Shield break up."

It was mumbled and the silver haired woman couldn't really hear the words over the music, so she leant forwards, eyes narrowed. "Say that again."

"He told me The Shield was splitting, okay? He told— he told me that Hunter had approached him and offered a new angle and that he said yes, but he—"

"You knew?"

Guilty brown eyes found Bobbi's.

"You knew and you didn't say anything?"

"He asked me not to…"

Bobbi wanted to smash her head against the counter repeatedly. She knew that she shouldn't have still been upset about the whole _betrayal_ thing, but it was hard not to when everywhere she turned, there were more and more secrets finding the light of day. First the kiss, then the split, now this. And with the common denominator always being Seth, Bobbi found it beyond hard not to get angry.

But instead of self inflicting her pain, Bobbi chose to gulp back the rest of the Corona. "Well, at least you didn't betray his trust."

"Bob…"

"It's fine."

"It's not— he told me not to say anything because for starters, you were just getting back into the right headspace with Dean and he didn't wanna ruin that, okay? He didn't… it wasn't a move of malice, Bobbi, it was him not wanting to make you unhappy."

There was a tug at the corner of her lips. "Lose lose. Make me sad by telling me beforehand, make me sad by betraying me in the ring."

Filipa said nothing.

"Like you said, always tiptoeing around me, huh?"

"That's— I didn't mean it like that…" she drew a deep breath and motioned to the bar keep for another vodka and coke. "You know how I get with my words when I have alcohol in my system, Bob. Look— none of us have to tip toe around you. And I mean, when it comes down to it, you're a chill person, you go with the flow…"

"But?"

Her eyebrows pulled together. "But I feel… I feel like you're leaving us out. I don't know, maybe I'm just over thinking things. But you're either always with Dean or training or talking about wrestlin' with the guys and…"

"Are you jealous?" Bobbi asked incredulously. "You're mouthing off at me because you're being left out?"

"It's stupid, I know it is—"

"Jesus Christ, Pip. So I'm in the shits for being consumed by my love life, I'm apparently difficult to deal with, and I'm forgetting my friends."

"When was the last time you hung out with Bray?" asked Filipa.

And… Bobbi paused at that. "I talk to him all the time—"

"Or the last time you caught up with Phil?"

"Damn," Bobbi muttered, shaking her head a little, laugh bubbling up from her chest. "Didn't realise that being on the road nearly 300 days of the year isn't as taxing as I'm making it out to be."

"You didn't even _tell_ me that Craig and Sarah were having a break, or that Craig has _met his daughter_. You know, the one he never knew about?"

"Shut up."

Filipa's mouth shut right away. Her eyes fell to the new drink that was in front of her, took a decent swig. "Sorry," she breathed a moment later.

"I don't have to see people all the time to still keep them in my life," said Bobbi. "I text Phil and Bray at least once a day, I talk to you almost every day we're at work, you've pretty much moved into my apartment. If you're mad at me because I forget to mention a few details about my family life here and there, I'm sorry. It doesn't come up in conversation, it's whatever— you never liked Craig anyway. And if you're mad because I'm telling you to stay away from Seth until his current girlfriend has split from him — which may or may not even happen — then whatever. Go get your heart broken. Break somebody else's heart while you're at it, too."

Without saying another word, Filipa skulled back the rest of her drink, grabbed her purse off the table and walked out of the club.

"Well that was great," she muttered sarcastically, motioning for another Corona.

"I'll pay for the lovely lady."

Bobbi glanced over her shoulder at the male voice, pale greens locking onto a typical drunk. He was barely standing, the smell of alcohol radiating off of his body, and Bobbi suppressed a sigh before climbing to her feet, shook her head at the bar tender before waving a couple of notes in his face. He took it without question.

"Don't want a free drink?"

Her head turned to the man once more. "I'd rather buy my own."

"Think you're too good for me, huh?" he snarled suddenly, reaching out with a flailing hand to try and grab her arm.

Bobbi sidestepped away from him, grabbed the Corona off the counter, sent the man a pointed look. "Just not interested. Back off."

The look in his eyes changed. Without having to turn around, she knew there was an intimidating Ambrose behind her, probably radiating waves of possessiveness. The drunkard quickly spun on his heel.

But when Bobbi turned around, saying "my knight in shining armour", it wasn't Dean behind her. It was Seth. The words turned to ice in her throat.

Seth flickered his eyes between hers and sighed, smoothed a hand across his beard. "I saw him eying you and Filipa off since I got in here, figured that he wasn't gonna go away without good reason to…" he trailed off, raised a shoulder. "You don't have to say thanks or anything—"

"Thanks."

The silver haired woman turned away without much more to say and instead brought the bottle of beer to her lips, took a swig as she made her way towards Dean.

 **RAW Live,**

 **June 16th, 2014**

 **Cleveland, Ohio**

They'd called her in early to go over measurements on her new ring gear. Secretly, she liked it much more than the gear they'd made her wear while she was with The Shield. And then they went over her new entrance music. When she'd pointed out the similarities between it and an instrumental version of _Bad Girls_ by M.I.A., even Stephanie agreed— but they kept it anyway. Again, Bobbi didn't really mind… humming the lyrics to herself as she walked down the entrance ramp would probably hype her up in the best kind of way.

Her tron reel looked awesome, a plethora of her kicking male ass and female ass, close ups of her smirk, the fiery green eyes.

The old blue spandex bustier crop top was in place across her chest, black faux leather joggers secured in place around her hips with a drawstring and black kick-pads covering black wrestling boots. Proper, actual wrestling boots now that she was swinging back into her own division— well, _after_ tonight.

The Shield dog-tags she'd been wearing for almost six months sat against her chest easily, black tape around her wrists, chains looping under her fingers. It was a different look, for sure.

"That's new," Roman said as she walked in towards catering.

Bobbi raised a shoulder, smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "It's not too shabby, I gotta say."

"They letting you keep the tags?"

"Yeah," she replied, fingers coming up to fiddle with them. "Not like I gave them a choice."

"That-a girl."

She flashed him a smile. "Speaking of, you seen Ambrose?"

"Thought lover boy was with you."

Both of their attentions turned to the screen broadcasting the match between Ziggler and Rollins then. "He's probably just gone to the gorilla a little early or something," Bobbi murmured slowly. She turned back to Roman. "How you holdin' up?"

"Could be better," he said, smiling a little. "Back's still killin' me."

"You talked to Seth yet?"

Roman shook his head. "Nah, not had the time. I'm sure sooner or later he'll find something to say, but… he pretty much lost all his friends in the space of a two minutes."

"He saved me." Bobbi said lowly. When Roman glanced at her, she shrugged. "From a drunkard last week. I dunno, Ro. I'm still mad at him, but… the more I think of it, the more I think I'm just over-reacting. He's still got a shit load to apologise for, no doubting that, but I kinda miss the fucker."

The Samoan laughed at her, shook his head again. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

A loud raucous erupted throughout the arena and Bobbi found her eyes drawn back to the screen. "What is he…" she trailed off, then cackled, threw her head back in glee. "He gave him a stiff shot!"

Seth's match against Dolph Ziggler had ended in a disqualification— a disqualification due to Dean. The man had jumped Seth, landed a couple of stiff jabs against the traitor's face. Now, Seth stood atop the ramp with a bloodied mouth, huffing and puffing like he'd just ran a marathon to escape her boyfriend.

"Wish I coulda done that," Bobbi sighed dreamily.

—

Almost thirty minutes later, Bobbi's new theme was filling the stadium. There was a moment of silence, then a loud cheer as she walked out from behind the tron. A microphone was dangling precariously in her hands, the woman slowly making her way down the ramp.

"Y'know, I know this stretcher was put out here for the main event tonight, but— I'm just so _tired_ I think I'm gonna take a nap," Bobbi said into the mic. She pulled the stretcher out on the padded flooring, laid back on it, stared up at the roof. "I feel like I'm in a therapist chair or something. Oh, yes, Mr Therapist, the bad feelings started when Seth Rollins stabbed me in the back with a chair."

Despite most of the crowd laughing at her, finding her antics at least a little amusing— Stephanie McMahon didn't. Her music was blaring through the arena, voice almost yelling soon after. "Cut the music! Barbara Arlett, I don't pay you to _lay on a stretcher_ and do nothing, I pay you to get into—"

Swinging up into a sitting position, Bobbi widened her eyes. "I'm— I'm so _sorry_ , Stephanie, but this lack of competition is just… it's _tiring_. You put me in a match and I win and… gosh diddly _darn_ , I guess I'm just too good, because guess what? Tonight, I'm not even scheduled to be out here! Would you believe that?!" She smirked as boos echoed through her ears. "You hear that, Steph? You're losin' business. And… just where or where is Sister Abigail, huh? Where is she? I can't see her! I haven't seen her since I put her back in her place way back— when, in April? WrestleMania? She's been a ghost on _that_ screen, hasn't she? _Mrs McMahon_ ," the words like venom rolling of her tongue had the other woman baring her teeth, "I would be in that ring doing my job if you had someone worthwhile wrestling. But here I am sat on a stretcher because _apparently_ you're entire team is incapable of doing that."

But as Bobbi sat on the stretch idly swinging her legs, she noticed the look of bliss cross Stephanie's face. "You know Bobbi, there's a locker room of people you've insulted and belittled during your tenure with The Shield. I mean, obviously there's gotta be someone out there who wants a little revenge?"

Her face split into a grin as 3MB's music played across the speakers. Bobbi mirrored the reaction.

" _Finally!_ "


	2. Chapter 2

**RAW Live**

 **June 16th, 2014**

 **Cleveland, Ohio**

 _Previously…_

But as Bobbi sat on the stretch idly swinging her legs, she noticed the look of bliss cross Stephanie's face. "You know Bobbi, there's a locker room of people you've insulted and belittled during your tenure with The Shield. I mean, obviously there's gotta be someone out there who wants a little revenge?"

Her face split into a grin as 3MB's music played across the speakers. Bobbi mirrored the reaction.

" _Finally!_ "

 _Now…_

Bobbi shifted her weight onto both feet as she stood from the stretcher, rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. With a smile almost cutting her cheeks in half, Heath Slater and his goons stood a top the ramp dumbfounded, Stephanie disappearing behind the tron

"No, no," she laughed into the microphone, "by all means, come down here and get your sweet, sweet revenge. I mean, I only have a stretcher and a microphone… how hard could it be?"

There was an arrogant grin across his lips then and he turned to McIntyre and Mahal, told them in no uncertain terms that he could handle this by himself, watched satisfied as they left him on the stage alone.

Turned out it was _very_ hard to get hands on Bobbi.

His cocky walk down to where she was standing left them face to face and he lifted his fingers with a strand of her silver hair in it, but the woman just stood with a certain glint to her eyes, curve at her lips.

"Y'know, you could apologise to me and we wouldn't have anymore of a problem," Heath said.

Bobbi's eyes narrowed. "You can get your hand away from my hair and I promise to keep your pain at a minimal level."

It was when he recoiled that Bobbi struck. The strong punch had Slater reeling backwards, stumbling over his feet to get away from her, but she kept on him, ducking to catch his furious gaze. "I can _apologise? I_ can apologise?"

They were heading back towards the ring and Bobbi quickly sidestepped him and reached a hand under the apron, locked her fingers around a weapon, rolled between the ropes and crouched in the middle in her leather joggers, motioned with two fingers for him to get in. The crowd was chanting for it, yelling " _Bobbi's gonna kill you_ " and the smirk on her lips as he climbed in with her was flashed up across the tron.

Without the killer boots, Slater was more than a few inches taller than her.

"This isn't a match, Barbara," he called at her as they circled. "No one's gonna stop me when I get my hands on you."

But he didn't see the kendo stick she was holding behind her back.

As he stepped forwards, Bobbi twisted her body and swung her arms around. The bamboo buried deep into Slater's gut and she could hear the breath flying out of his body, brought the stick above her head and straight down onto his back remorselessly.

But she was smiling, laughing as she hit him over and over again, laughing as she turned him into a writhing mess on the ground. Twisting and driving it into his back and his stomach and at one stage across the crown of his head.

Eventually, referees were surrounding them, all calling out to the silver haired woman, trying to get her to calm down, but it was no use. She screamed something incomprehensible back at them and threw the kendo stick forcibly at the three men, sticking up both middle fingers when they stared back at her in shock— obviously they hadn't realised there was still a lot of pent up rage coursing through her body.

Bobbi propelled herself from the ring and shoved the stretcher away angrily and screamed, scooped the microphone into her hand.

"Stephanie McMahon, Triple H," she panted, "anyone else standing backstage who even _thinks_ they can settle a score with me— Seth Rollins has succeeded in just one thing, and that's making me _angry_. Welcome to the fun house."

—

Sitting backstage watching John Cena and Kane put each other through living hell was not as entertaining as Bobbi first thought it was going to be.

"How's your shoulder?"

Dean was sitting across from her in catering, tiredly munching away at a sandwich, his soggy hair drying from an earlier match. "Not too flash, honestly."

"You seen Doc yet?"

"Nah," he shook his head, "like I said, it'll be fine in a couple more days."

Bobbi sent him a look. She knew what he was like with injuries— _if it wasn't bleeding, it was fine_. "Don't let it get too bad."

"Have you talked to Filipa?" His change of subject drew a long sigh from the silver haired woman. He'd obviously heard about the weird— _confrontation_ that had happened the previous week, and when Bobbi shook her head, he raised his eyebrows. "She asked me how you were going."

"She did what?"

Dean shrugged, his eyes now avoiding hers. "She asked me how you were goin' before the show started, I told her you were doin' fine. I thought you guys were supposed to be best friends or somethin'."

This time it was Bobbi who raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, so did I."

As the match neared it's end, Bobbi excused herself from the table and walked across towards the gorilla, raised her eyebrows at Randy Orton and shooting him a little grin.

"Hi."

At first, she didn't really want to acknowledge him. She didn't know how to, yet. So she mimicked what Seth had said to her, murmuring a soft 'hi' before turning her attention back towards the stage hands as they stared at the monitors.

Randy and Seth were given the signal to go and Bobbi stood alone for just a moment. Then, it was showtime.

As she ran out from behind the tron, pale eyes zeroed in on the three men in the ring.

Seth had betrayed her for The Authority. _Fact_. They didn't want Cena winning the match for a chance to enter the WWE World Heavyweight Championship ladder match at Money in the Bank. _Fact_. Cena had helped her boys last week. _Fact_. Which, in any language— it meant that she and Cena had at least one thing in common.

The crowd responded loudly as she bolted down to the squared circle. Orton was pounding the mat in preparation to hit the RKO on Cena, and she slid in as he stood up. As soon as she had crawled to her feet, as soon as Seth's wide brown eyes had met hers, Bobbi wrapped her arm around Randy Orton's neck and pulled him face down into the mat with an RKO. With John and Randy now lying limp on the mat, Bobbi stood and locked her eyes back onto Seth Rollins, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, his hands up to try and calm her down.

But there was more screaming, more noise. The ring dipped under the weight of a new person and the smirk on Bobbi's face deepened, because now standing next to her was none other than Dean Ambrose.

"This is how it's gonna be?" Seth called at them, and for a moment his eyes flashed.

"We ain't gonna stop 'til there's no longer a spine in your back," Ambrose replied.

Yet as soon as the words were out of his mouth he was spun away, Kane's fist hitting him underside the jaw, sending him reeling, and Bobbi just barely managed to side step Rollins. She kept her momentum going, knew that Dean could handle himself against the big red monster, bounced off the ropes closest to her and launched onto Seth.

They flew back and then Bobbi's legs were either side of his body, her fists slamming into his face over and over until he was shifting the momentum, rolling the pair of them from the ring and onto the padded floor. She was on top and then he was, pushing away from her and trying to run, but Bobbi was up and climbing onto his back, locking an arm around his throat in a sleeper hold, tightening her legs around his waist.

Bobbi could barely hear herself thinking over the noise of the crowd.

Seth's gloved hands were flailing at her arms and her fingers were knotted into wet hair, pressuring his head down onto her arm, and the man was groaning and spinning and trying desperately to get her off of him. But then fingers curled into the leather joggers and her blue top, tugging her harshly off him.

The impact of her body on the floor was jarring. Bobbi bit against her lip, could feel warm blood spill into her mouth.

Randy Orton and Seth Rollins stood over her for not even a second before legs were pressing into her back and for the shortest moment, she thought that it was Kane and the breath in her lungs vanished. But Ambrose's hand was wrapping around the tattooed arm and yanking her to unsteady feet, standing next to her with a wild look flashing in his blue eyes.

In the ring, Cena and Kane had resumed the match, but the audience was much more interested in the stand-off now taking place outside the ring, a chant of ' _this is awesome_ ' breaking out around them.

And as John Cena finally managed to put Kane on a stretcher and wheel him across the yellow line on the stage, that's where the four stayed.

—

It was becoming habitual that on a Wednesday morning, Bobbi would find herself wide awake in Dean's bed, ready to go for the most intense training session of the week.

Her boyfriend was sleeping on his stomach, mouth opened as he snored, one arm haphazardly thrown over her bare waist, the other tucked under his shoulder. Bobbi smiled at the sight of his peaceful face and smoothed her hand across the mess of his hair. His fingers twitched against her ribs.

"Dean…"

His mouth shut and he pursed his lips, frowning as he grunted at her.

"C'mon, baby," Bobbi tried again, trailing a hand down to his neck. "Time to go to the gym."

"Five more minutes," he groaned.

She rolled her pale eyes and pushed from the bed, pulled a clean set of workout clothes from the suitcase she'd yet to take back down to her apartment. There was a lime green sports bra, some knee length leggings, grey Nike sneakers, and by the time she'd changed into them, Dean was back to snoring. A grin pulled at her lips and she tugged on a black graphic tank top, crouched beside him.

"You gonna meet me down there?"

He grunted again.

Bobbi pressed a kiss against his hair and walked from the apartment, plugging in a pair of headphones and taping into her workout playlist. It was a mix of old and new, head banging and bass that kept her motivated to keep moving.

The gym was empty as she walked in and her eyes automatically set on the lat pull-down machine, throwing her grey towel to the ground. She reached above her for the handles and sat, pulled the bar down with her, kept that natural arch in her lower back. _Up, down, up, down,_ keeping tempo with the beat of Eminem's song, lasting the entirety.

A new song meant a new exercise. Next was the leg press machine, extending her legs and flexing them as she felt the burn start in her quads.

There was a lackey around her wrist and she pulled her hair up into a loose knot as a sweat started to build on her face, and by the time the song had finished, her legs were absolutely _screaming_ at her.

Bobbi took a long drag of water, jumped up and down on the spot to shake out what was left of her tiredness.

She moved towards the back extension machine and leant her weight against the cushion at her thighs, hooked her legs under padded bars, then locked her fingers around a circular weight and pressed down, leant up, repeating the motions as quick as she could until the next song was done.

It was only when she sat down at the tricep extension machine, sitting with her breasts pressed up against the cushions that Dean walked into the gym. As she lifted and lowered the barbells in her hands, pale eyes trailed after her boyfriend. He swept a hand through the mess of wavy hair, walked over to where the weighted balls were. She was too busy watching the way the muscles in his arms rippled to observe that her song had changed, noticing with a start that she should've been on the next exercise.

With her arms still weighed down by the barbells, Bobbi lunged the length of the room for the rest of the song, could feel the way Dean's eyes were burning into her thighs.

Next were squats, and she stood in the middle of a contraption with weights on a bar across her back, and by now the tank she'd been wearing was next to where she'd left her towel.

Dean had moved onto the ropes that were set up in a corner, began whipping them back and forth, and then his shirt was off. Taut muscles flexed along his smooth back and once again Bobbi was momentarily distracted watching him.

She yanked a headphone out of her ear. "You know how distracting you are, Ambrose?"

He shot her a smirk over his bare shoulder.

When the song switched, Bobbi shifted to where three different boxes were. There was a small one, a larger one, and then the largest. Breathing in and out of her nose, she jumped onto the smallest one, jumped off. Continued that until there was a decent burn in her thighs, then moved onto the middle one, then onto the largest one.

By the time she was done, there was a buildup of sweat on her skin, chest rising and falling in pants as she tried to catch her breath.

She glanced over at where Dean was staring at her, watched the way his mouth was moving, tugged her earphone back out. "Huh?"

"You know how hard it is to concentrate when you're dressed like that?"

Bobbi did a double take on the sports bra and bike shorts, lifted an eyebrow as she glanced back at him. "Keep it together, _toots_."

Taking another long swig of her water, Bobbi watched as Dean powered through the rest of his gym exercises, finally finishing with some stretches that she probably should have done. Waltzing back over to where her things were, she yanked the black fabric back over her head, tucked the grey towel into the waistband of her shorts.

"You ready to go?" she asked Dean as he walked over to her.

With a nod of his head, they were off, walking towards the lift but completely past it, instead pushing open the stairwell. Bobbi sprinted down the flights with her hand resting over the bar and a smile tugged at her lips once more when Dean matched her pace.

They were out onto the street in a couple more moments, ducking and weaving between pedestrians before turning down a side street.

"What's the plan for tonight?"

Bobbi glanced up at Dean. "Dunno, what do you wanna do?"

"Date?"

She snorted but kept running, now focusing her eyes onto the path in front of her. "If you want."

"We could go to the cinema and catch that movie you wanna see."

"Movie date," Bobbi nodded her head pensively, but then she was smiling, glancing back up at Dean. "Is this because I said you weren't romantic?"

He raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together, looking away pointedly. "No."

"It so is."

"Okay, maybe," he puffed out, "but seriously, it's not a bad idea."

"What movie again?"

"Godzilla."

Bobbi blanched, looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. "That's the movie _you_ wanna see!"

"I thought you wanted to see it!"

"No, I wanna see Maleficent."

" _Noooo_ ," Dean groaned, "giant monster killing machine _always_ over watching a chick flick."

"You _loved_ White Chicks," she reminded him.

"It's _White Chicks!_ Everybody loves White Chicks! That shit's funny as fuck."

Snorting back another laugh, Bobbi matched Dean's pace as they turned onto another main street, now heading towards a local wrestling academy. And then her lips curved.

"Tell you what, Dean, whoever gets to Adrenaline first chooses the movie."

His only response was to take off in a sprint, and Bobbi was left chasing after him and yelling something about how he was cheating.

—

After Dean beat her to Adrenaline Unleashed, Kent Wilson, the owner of the indie brand, let them into the large shed and told them to shut up shop once they were done. One ring loomed in front of them in the viewing area and out back there were a couple of punching backs and skipping ropes.

It was normal for Bobbi and Dean to wrestle against each other while they were training, and more often than not Bobbi was left on her back after an insinuated three count, but she was happy Dean never went easy on her or slacked off— it meant that her wins over him were that much sweeter. Also, there was a slight possibility that he was too proud to let her win on purpose. Either way, it worked for them.

But now Bobbi was bracing a punching bag as Dean laid into it remorsefully. She was pushing her weight into it, tensing her body as his jabs and stronger hits sent shocks through her muscles.

"What do you think Seth's gonna do?"

There was a short silence. Then, "Huh?"

"I mean, do you think he's going to leave Leighla?" Bobbi clarified, glancing around to stare at her boyfriend. "You can't tell me that you haven't noticed the way he's been watching Filipa."

"I think Leighla will castrate him."

That was definitely a good point. "He gonna wait for her to decide or not?"

"Dunno, why don't you ask him?"

"As much as I miss him and want to know all the details, that fucker still isn't forgiven."

Dean snorted at her and jabbed quickly at the bag. "You could say that again."

She watched him closely now, narrowed her pale green eyes. "How are you not in rage-mode about this? I thought trust was a big thing to you."

Her insinuation was there and Dean stopped hitting the bag altogether, staring at her with a frown. They both remembered their massive fight when it had come to trust in their relationship. "I am mad at him, Bob, but I'm also a professional, and he's still my friend. He sold himself out, not me, so that's his problem. Plus, where else was The Shield gonna go?"

"Dunno," she admitted. "Imagine how cool it would have been for you boys to all have singles titles, for me to have the Diva's Championship."

He smiled at that. "You? A Diva's Champion? That would entail you being a diva, and honestly… can't picture that."

"Me neither."

* * *

 **sorry this took so long to get up, was being a bitch to get done, so that's why it's a bit shorter than usual!**

 **to my beautiful reviewers Raquel the writer (** thank you! **), Microspider (** thank you! Bobbi's new theme is an instrumental version of Bad Girls by M.I.A with a bit more of a bass feel to it- but the instrumental works just fine as well, ;) **), and quinzel harley (** saaame omg, it took a while to find the right one, but it suits so well! hope you enjoyed this update since you practically were begging for it ;) **), thanks so much for the kind words and I hope you enjoyed this update!**

 **xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**just in case you guys have started reading this part of Bobbi and Dean's story first, you should check the first part out called _Three's a Crowd, Four's a Party_ \- but it's not, like, _super_ important. if you stick around, you'll get the swing of things.**

* * *

 **RAW Live,**

 **June 23rd, 2014**

 **Washington, D.C**

With Money In The Bank looming just six days away, RAW was focused around the two ladder matches that were scheduled for the pay per view. Roman had cemented his place into the ladder match for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship, Dean and Bobbi were out for revenge, but at the same time, that left them without a proper feud.

And Dean's shoulder would not stop bothering him.

"Should go get that checked, dude," Roman said through a mouthful of egg.

He was rubbing at it incessantly and Bobbi knew how much it had been bothering him, especially when his tossing and turning kept her awake, and on top of that, he didn't even want to drive. But she knew better than to pester him about it — he'd let her deal with her ribs, she'd let him sort his shoulder at. And as much as she hated thinking it, Dean couldn't afford to leave the TV. It was too soon after the split and the void he would leave would be close to impossible to fill. So if Stephanie or Hunter asked… he was just _fine_.

"Nah," Dean replied. "It'll be good, just gotta give it some time."

"You're gonna be in that ladder match."

"I know."

Roman sighed, fixed his eyes back on the monitor. "Whatever you say, man, s'your body, not mine."

"Damn right."

With narrowed eyes, Bobbi watched Seth as he walked into the room, Filipa right next to him.

God, how awkward was it going to be when she and Filipa finally had to talk?!

It was bad enough trying to figure out what to do ring-wise with Seth when she could barely look at him, but on top of that— the only thing worse than that was having to sit at a table with both of them.

But like the powers above just wanted to fuck with her, the couple-that-wasn't-a-couple stacked their plates with some light food and walked over to where she and the boys were sitting cautiously. Filipa's eyes were on the floor and Seth was peering between the three of them hopefully.

She could feel Dean looking at her and then his head was turned to where their old friend stood at the table. "You mind if we sit?" Seth asked slowly.

When no one replied, Seth and Filipa slid onto the stools across from her.

"Look, guys—"

Bobbi didn't bother listening. She gave Dean a small nod and climbed to her feet, left the catering room behind her as she walked towards the diva's locker-room, smiled at the women already in there as she quickly shut the door. There were a few odd glances in her direction as she pulled her wrestling gear on, but the room was quick to descend back into a soft chatter.

"Hey, Bob."

Her pale eyes shifted to where Brie Bella was leaning against the wall next to her, and she couldn't stop the smile. "Hey, how are you?"

"Probably a lot better than you look," Brie teased, then realised what she'd said and stammered out a "in that you look like you're about to murder someone, not that you look terrible or anything."

She chuckled at the other woman. "Thanks for the clarification."

"How is everything with Filipa, anyway?" Again, when Brie was met with silence, she elaborated. "Word gets around quick, heard that you two got into a bit of an argument. Trust me, it's like being in high school again— everyone knows everything."

Bobbi frowned and turned to sit, started to lace her boots up. "Still haven't talked to her. It was less an argument, more a… I dunno, it was like she was upset more than anything, but she didn't go about telling me the right way, so here we are." She took another breath, shook her head slowly. "Plus, she's spending a lot of time with Seth now, and I'm not really ready to talk to him about anything yet, so it's just a bit… awkward."

"Give her some time, you guys have been friends for a while and she won't wanna throw that away over something petty."

"Anyway," Bobbi segued, "how's Daniel doing?"

The woman smiled at the thought of her husband. "Yeah, he's recovering well. He asked whether you and Dean were finally stitched up."

"Finally?"

She laughed and held her arm out towards Bobbi, leading them from the room once she'd hooked her elbow in. "Honey, we all knew that was gonna happen last year."

"It is like high school, isn't it?" the silver-haired woman mused to herself, smirking a little. "When'd you figure it out?"

"Oooooh, probably just after we got back from the European tour," Brie hummed thoughtfully. "Definitely around the time of the Slammy's, 'cause the way he was looking at you was like he wanted to strip you on the spot, and vice versa. God, you looked at him during those first couple of months like he was pure water and you were dying of thirst."

Bobbi snorted at her. "You make me sound like I was on the prowl."

"Oh, you were. But now… now it's different." Brie looked at the floor and smiled mostly to herself. "Now you look at him like I look at Daniel."

—

By the time the show rolled around into it's second hour, the Bella twin was off doing her own thing and Bobbi was waiting in the wings, jumping on the spot and shaking her arms out to warm up. There was a microphone tucked into her jogger pocket, and Seth was already out there in the ring with RVD— she knew her cue when she saw the new golden boy prepare for his finisher.

When her music hit, one foot moved in front of the other and she pushed through the curtains, trying to stop the grin at her lips when the crowd reacted.

Seth stepped away from his opponent and from where she stood, she could see the way his eyes narrowed. He pushed his hair back from his face, threw his arms out, yelled at her— she couldn't hear him.

"Am I interrupting something important, Seth?" Bobbi laughed and ran her tongue over her teeth. "I didn't even realise! Ya' see, I'm hoping that you can help me with something. It's this— _nagging_ problem in the back of my head, this incessant buzzing that's grating on my last nerve, and I've only really found one way that can help get rid of it."

His face twisted in confusion. But then she was walking again, down the ramp and towards the squared circle. "You stay outta this, Arlett!" Seth was yelling now. "I ain't got time to deal with you!"

But she wasn't looking at him anymore. "RVD— you mind if I call you Rob?" From where the superstar was recovering, he shook his head. "Rob, I think you know what I'm about to do, but I still wanna apologise in advance. You don't mind, do ya?"

He shook his head once more.

Boots now on the steel steps, pale greens watched in amusement as Seth looked between her and the other superstar, and then he was pointing a finger at her. "No! No, you stay right there! Who do you think you are?!"

"Who do I think I am?" she laughed down the mic, shaking her head. "Oh c'mon Seth, I'm not the one here with an identity crisis. I mean, that's why you ran home to daddy, isn't it? Because you don't know who you are without him?" Bobbi was shifting between the ropes, Seth narrowing his eyes and not moving in the slightest. "I just— I gotta _know_ , I _need_ to know… this nagging thought that can't seem to leave me alone only seems to disappear when I slam my fist _into your face._ "

A thud sounded through the arena as Bobbi threw the microphone at his chest, and there was a moment where his brown eyes met hers and the arena stilled— but then she was throwing a hand across his face and launching herself into him, trying to hit him as many times as she could.

Faintly, there was the sound of a bell ringing and Seth being announced as the winner due to disqualification.

Bobbi didn't care.

Her hands were tugging harshly at his hair now, knees digging into his stomach, but Seth was still much stronger than her. His momentum rolled them both out of the ring and the breath was from her lungs when her back hit the floor.

"Think you can beat me?!"

Seth's hand twisted into the silver locks and his other in the back of her top and she was up, being swung around, and Bobbi had barely managed to suck in a breath before he tossed her back-first into the announce table— and then it was back out in a strangled cry. The jarring impact sent a sharp tooth through her lip and warm blood spilled into her mouth.

Stomps were hitting against her hips and her stomach and the tattooed arm was up and protecting her head, Seth yelling at her angrily. "You think this is some kinda game? Think you can come out here whenever you want—"

But as soon as he was there, he was gone.

The crowds reaction was louder now. Through the mess of her hair, Bobbi let a grin break over her face when she saw Dean straddling Seth and pushing his fists into the mix of blonde and brown hair. He tossed their ex-faction member over the barricades and into the time keepers area, spared her a look for just one second to make just she was okay before turning his atention back to beating the shit out of Seth Rollins.

Bobbi rolled out of their way just in time, pushing herself back against the apron as they shifted to the other side of the announce table, and as a camera guy closed in on her face, she ran fingers along her teeth to assess the damage. Her hand came back bright red.

Referee's were pouring out of backstage then, trying to separate the agitated Ambrose and flailing Rollins, but what she didn't expect was Triple H to round the corner of the ring and fist his hand in her hair.

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are?!" he hissed as he pulled her up, "this is _my_ show, not yours, so don't you _dare_ think you have the right to come out here like you own this company! Get out of my arena! _GO!_ "

Bobbi's lips twisted and she launched a knee between his legs with a guttural yell, and her boss was on the floor and writhing in agony within seconds. "Oops!" Bobbi yelled sarcastically, kicking against his back for good measure.

There was an arm wrapped around her bare stomach and a referee pulled her away, shoved her alongside where they were trying to keep Ambrose from attacking Rollins, and Bobbi couldn't help herself— she reached out and ran her hand through Dean's wet hair, smirked at him… and then winced when her lip stung horribly.

Almost like he didn't care who saw, Dean reached out and dragged his thumb across her bloodied lip. "What is it with you and a blood mouth, huh? Shouldn't you leave the lip biting to me?"

"Can't let you have all the fun now, can I?"

A microphone was thrust into his hand and together they climbed into the ring, Bobbi throwing her arms out wide to the retreating Seth Rollins. On the tron, she saw a flash of the crazed look in Dean's eyes.

"They may as well go ahead and uh, put me in that Money In The Bank ladder match right now, huh?" He threw his arms out and raised his eyebrows at Bobbi. "'Cause if they don't, I'm still gonna show up at Boston anyway, I'm still gonna bash Seth Rollin's face in, I'm still gonna grab that briefcase _and walk out the door with it,_ ** _I will screw up the entire pay per view!"_** Dean paced the ring in a rage and Bobbi didn't stop the laugh bubbling up from within her chest. "I'm comin' to Money In The Bank regardless and I ain't comin' to play _nice!_ "

Bobbi pushed herself up onto the second rope and threw her arms out once more. " _You can't run forever, Rollins!_ "

—

 **SmackDown Taping**

 **June 24th, 2014**

See, the problem with doing whatever she wanted meant that more often than not, Bobbi found herself in a little bit of a pickle. Not only had she humiliated Stephanie McMahon twice, she'd also RKO'd Randy Orton what… two, three times now? She'd low blown Triple H twice as well, humiliated him many more times… sooner or later, all that was going to come back around and bite her in the ass. But right now, what was more important was making sure that Seth Rollins was kept away from Dean Ambrose's match against Bad News Barrett.

In the opening segment, Triple H had banned her from appearing ringside, instead informed the audience that she'd been swamped with backstage work to keep her busy.

But, as usual, she didn't really listen to what she was _told_ to do.

So as she waited, she tapped out a message on her phone and sent it into the twitter-sphere. _WWEBobbiArlett: Trips should be more worried about the ladder match this weekend and less worried about keeping me preoccupied. Time to have some fun._

She'd only tweeted a handful of times, but automatically her notifications blew up and she chucked the phone onto a stage box.

Her attention focused back onto the screen, Dean bouncing Jack Swagger's head off of the announce table, and when he was grabbed from behind and tossed into the steel steps, Bobbi was out and running.

Sliding into the ring on her leather joggers and slipping back out, she stood in front of Dean, between him and the person who had betrayed them for glory and fame.

Seth's eyes flashed dangerously. "Get out of my way, Arlett, I don't wanna hurt you."

"You don't wanna hurt me?" Bobbi laughed incredulously, a mix of confusion and disbelief crossing her features. "Maybe you shoulda thought of that before you _stabbed me in the back with a chair!_ "

A flicker of something akin to remorse flashed through Seth's eyes for a second. But as quick as it was there, it was gone. "I warned you, Arlett."

And with those last words, Seth dashed forwards and Bobbi met him halfway, the confrontation leading to their third brawl in the space of a week. Her thickly heeled boots had her up at his height but he was still much stronger, pushing her back against the apron, fists driving into where her arms were protecting her ribs. Bobbi rammed her head up into his nose and with the distance now created, she launched forwards with a kick to his stomach that had the crowd gasping at the noise.

She locked an arm around the back of his neck and tugged him down, drove knee after knee into her stomach, and then strong hands were heavy on her hips, slinging her away effortlessly. When Bobbi rolled to a stop, the burning fire of her eyes locked on Jack Swagger.

Panting, lips pulling back over her teeth, she watched as Seth yelled and rolled Ambrose between the ropes, ripped his blazer off in a rage.

"You will _not_ ruin this for me!" he yelled at her, "I got _eyes_ on you!"

Bobbi launched forwards and screamed loudly, but Swagger caught her right away with a strong arm and again slung her back to the ground— in the squared circle, Ambrose's head had been planted into the canvas with a vicious looking Curb Stomp.

She was back on her feet and peering over the All American's shoulder with a dangerous glint in her eyes, glaring right at where Rollins was standing over Dean.

"You're gonna regret ever knowing me," Bobbi spat, "I'm going to make your life a living hell."

His lips curved up. "You're never gonna get the chance."

—

Bobbi hadn't been out clubbing or bar hopping since the whole Filipa— _thing_. But Roman and Dean were borderline desperate to drag her along to the bar they were going to, and she couldn't really say no, so at a bar was where she found herself on Tuesday night.

But, again, it was more a hybrid between a bar and a club. Music was pounding, a group of people dancing, many just hanging around and relaxing after a tiring day. There was a Corona in her hand and she was sitting across from Ro and Dean, smiling at their entertaining conversation.

And Dean was on his sixth beer, sucking them back like he wasn't going to have a pounding head in the morning.

"And man, I was poundin' on this kid like there was no tomorrow," he was saying, "but I came out and started hip thrustin' into the air and tripped over my own feet, sang _Sweet Caroline_ as loud as I could—"

He broke off into an ugly laugh, the kind that twisted your face and made you gasp for breath, the kind that sounded like he was dying, and beside him Roman was clutching at his stomach as well.

"That night though, Cutter came in after having a shower but we're all still fuckin' piss drunk, 'n he sits down and just glares at me and I'm thinkin' to myself, _what the hell is this fuck's problem_ , but he just looks at me and goes ' _ask me if I'm a tree_ '. So of course I fuckin' ask him if he's a tree, and he just fuckin' lost it, lost his shit and was pissin' laughter, falls off the chair and everything and goes ' _of course I'm not a tree, you idiot! Do I_ look _like a fuckin' tree?!_ "

Both of the men across from her roar with laughter and Bobbi can't stop it when she joins them, eyes glittering with joy as she watches the way Dean's nose scrunches, the way Roman's eyes squint, and if this is what she misses when they all went drinking together— she needed more of this shit.

Dean sucked in a long breath and sighed it out, looked up to the roof dreamily. "He passed out on the floor right after."

It was only when Dean hiccuped that a bubble of laughter burst out of her chest, and then they were all cackling again.

"Oh, oh, oh," the drunk man turned to her, blue eyes full of life. "Funny drunk stories, Bob?"

"Oh, no," Bobbi replied with a smile. "No funny drunk stories for me. Ro?"

"C'mon Bob, you have to have _something!_ "

Bobbi shared a distressed look with an almost inebriated Roman and found herself grinning again. "Fine, fine, but if it's not funny, don't judge me, alright?!" When Dean nodded feverishly, she rolled her eyes. "When Filipa and I were at Lake Side War, a bunch of the guys and I got smashed after a show, and it was that time of night where everyone was packing up and there was shit everywhere, and I'm full of energy and runnin' around after some fuckwit who stole my beer, but I don't realise that the garage of the warehouse had been lowered, and I'm runnin' full steam towards this thing, slam my head against the metal and fly onto my back, blood gushin' from my hairline, and all I could cry about was that I wasn't gonna finish my beer."

She hadn't even finished when Dean had thrown an arm across his stomach and started howling and guffawing, dimples threatening to break his face in half, and Roman was more laughing at him than her, but she still giggled at the drunken mess in front of her.

"I'm gonna go call a cab," Roman announced to her, "time to get some sleep, I think."

Bobbi smiled at the man that was almost like an older brother to her, focusing back on Dean. Then, she realised with a start that he was staring across at her with half-lidded eyes and a cute little grin on his face.

"What?!"

Placing his head on his arm, he let out a content sigh. "Nothin'. I'm just the fuckin' luckiest guy in the world, is all."

A blush crawled up Bobbi's chest. "And I'm the luckiest woman alive."

He slid around to where she was sat and pushed an arm between her waist and the booth seat. "I don't know what I did to get you, I'm just as confused as you are," Dean laughed dreamily, "I mean, _why_ aren't we married yet— you're great, I'm great, it would be fuckin' fan _tastic_ and you could live in my apartment and cook me those scrambled eggs you do real well," and his voice trailed off as he buried his face into Bobbi's neck. "I love you. Can I keep you?"

Pale green eyes widened at the man cuddling into her, and like a puppy dog, he glanced up at her with big blue eyes and a dimpled smile. "I love you _sooooo_ much," he said again. "Loved you since you threw me that surprise party for my birthday."

It was Dean's first time ever saying those words to her, but his eyes had looked like that for a long time. She'd known for a while what he felt for her. "Oh _really?_ You love me?"

"Yup."

She was beaming down at him now, dipping her head to press their lips together. "'bout time you fessed up, dimples."

He grinned back at her cheekily.

* * *

 **heyooooooo sorry about the wait for this one, i've been super busy lately! hopefully i made up with it for the scene at the end? huehue**

 **to my reviewers, _Raquel the writer_ (** the attire she's in now are loose faux leather joggers and a blue wrap crop top - you can see the full outfit on my polyvore if you want! **), _quinzel harley_ (** hope you enjoyed this one my love, it was a breath of fresh air writing the last chapter so thanks for giving me that inspiration! **), and _labinnacslove_ (** honestly, neither can i! we're gonna have to do something about that, aren't we? **), let me know what you thought of this chapter and what you think is going to happen with the MITB ladder match!**

 **much love xx**


	4. Chapter 4

"You seen this shit?"

Bobbi thrust the phone under Dean's nose with a small grin, watched the reaction closely as his eyes locked onto the GIF that was replaying. It was one of them, from the RAW where he'd swiped the blood from her lip, and the change in his eyes as he walked away was dramatic.

"Huh."

"What about this one?"

This time, she swiped to a photo of them from the club the other night, where an absolute creep of a fan had snapped a paparazzi style picture of Dean cuddling into her.

"That's cute."

"Oh, I know it is," Bobbi smiled as she kissed the top of his head. "Don't think Stephanie and Hunter want our personal lives involved in wrestling, though."

He acted like he hadn't heard her. "Anymore of those photos?"

"You actually wanna look for them?"

"Why not?" he shrugged, "could be a fun learning experience of what not to do."

So together, they opened a tab on google and typed in their names— and automatically pictures of them in The Shield popped up. Times when they'd been pissed with each other, times when she'd saved him or he'd saved her, times when she was smirking at him and vice versa. There was even another paparazzi-style picture of Bobbi heaving Dean out of the club the night of his mental lapse.

"We're hot," Dean murmured into her shoulder. "I like it. We need more couple photos."

Bobbi giggled at her boyfriend. "You sound like a pre-teen right now who's just started dating her first crush."

"At least they know who you belong to."

"Oh, I belong to you?" Bobbi smiled at him.

"Fuck yeah."

Bobbi placed the phone back down onto the bedside table and turned her fingers through his curly hair. "And who do you belong to?"

"Wrestling." For dramatic effect, Dean paused. Then, "and you."

"What a sweetheart."

He grinned up at her. "See, I'm not just a good fuck."

But she was sitting naked and tangled in his sheets, bruises pattering the skin between her breasts once more. "You're a very good fuck," Bobbi replied evenly.

"I think I've proven that I can be rather the— _romancer_. Romance person…" he trailed off and there was a crease between his eyebrows, but he shrugged it off and glanced up at her with a wriggle of his eyebrows. "You know what I'm sayin'."

"You speak English, I speak English…"

"This is gonna be one of those days, isn't it? Where you're just goin' to be a shit for the fun of it."

She smirked at him. "Maybe."

They both jumped as Bobbi's phone began to vibrate next to them, the woman's face splitting into a grin as she looked at the caller ID. She swiped it eagerly. "Hey, Ma."

"Barbara, my beautiful girl, how are you?" Her mother's voice was thick with the French accent and Bobbi sat up properly, pushed away from a lethargic Dean. "I feel like I haven't talked to you for a long time."

"I know, it's been too long," Bobbi said with a little grin. "I should be able to come visit after Tuesday, though, so we can catch up properly then."

Her mother hummed. "Am I interrupting something, _belle_?"

"No, Ma, I'm just with a friend. Can I give you a call back a little later?"

"Of course, _ma chérie_. _Je t'aime_."

" _Je t'aime, maman._ "

Bobbi placed the phone back down onto the table and went to turn back into Dean's embrace, but his eyes were peering at her almost in anger and his arms were crossed, and automatically she knew she'd done something wrong. "Dean…?"

"A _friend?_ "

And _oh_. "Dean—"

"No, no, I get it, you've said it before, right? I'm not the kinda guy you bring home to your mum, I'm the kind you fuck at a dinner party and then shove out the window like nothing ever happened—"

"Dean!"

The tone of her voice cut him off right away, his pout pulling a little at her heartstrings. "Just stop for a second, okay? It's been close to fuckin' six _years_ since I've had anything close to a boyfriend, so the fact that I want to take you home to her when I go back on Wednesday, the fact that I know she'll want to meet you— I'm surprised she hasn't had a heart attack already. So just— shut the fuck up, I'll tell her when I know she won't keel over and kick the bucket, alright?!"

His lips pursed and he turned away like a child. "Fuckin'— ugh. Whatever."

"Don't you whatever me, you overgrown child."

The look he sent back over his shoulder was a playful glare.

—

 ** _Money In The Bank_** **Pay-Per-View, 2014**

 **29th June, 2014**

 **Boston, Massachusetts**

"Bobbi, do you have a minute?"

The silver haired woman turned her head at Stephanie McMahon's voice, a forced grin forming on her lips. "Yeah, what's up?"

With a grand smile, Stephanie unraveled the material she had in her hand, watched the way that Bobbi's eyes lit up as she assessed the symbol on the front. "Due to popular demand, we got some of our designers to throw together a basic design based on what we already know about your character. I figure you've already seen the merch for the other Shield members?" When Bobbi nodded, she continued. "We're going along the same line with you. Roman's is jagged, very— predictive, I guess you could say. For Seth, of course we went for something that looked a little more architectural in design, and it was easy to think that Dean's would be a little erratic and crazy. For you… well, the lines between good and bad are flexible. Thus… the finished product."

What was before Bobbi's eyes was a black muscle tank top. On the front in light blue and white font was a backwards B and a normal looking A, the characters curved and pressing against each other. On the back, the same style of text read ' _hell on heels_ '.

"Stephanie…" there was a wide and genuine grin on Bobbi's face. "That's awesome. That's fuckin' _awesome_."

"I'd say cussing usually isn't suited around my wife, but I think this time we'll make an exception."

Bobbi shifted her smile to Triple H. "Seriously, I never even thought I'd get something, let alone my own top. This is awesome." And like an excited child, she then said, "Am I allowed to wear it and show it off?"

Two minutes later and with a slight jump in her step, Bobbi found herself walking down the hallway with her new top curled up between her fingertips. She knew who she was going to show first without any hesitation— but he wasn't anywhere she looked. So obviously, her next turn was to the other two wonderful men in her life; Bray and Roman.

Their involvement in the WWE World Heavyweight Championship ladder match meant that they were more than likely together and discussing spots, so she wasn't at all surprised to find them studying other ladder matches from many years before.

"Hey, doll," Bray greeted with a smile, "you look happy as the sun."

Roman's eyes narrowed. "This can't be good… where did you hide his body?"

Ignoring the jab at her slightly murderous tendencies, Bobbi clutched the top tighter behind her back, wriggled her eyebrows. "You got your merch the other day, yeah?"

"Yeah," he nodded at her. "Looks pretty cool, like a superhero symbol."

" _Guess whose looks better!_ "

She thrust the tank before her friends' eyes and giggled manically, trying not to jump up and down on the spot in glee, and Roman and Bray were smiling just as much as she was.

"'bout damn time they did something for you," Bray laughed happily, his eyes crinkling.

Clutching the top back to her chest, Bobbi slipped into the seat beside Roman, nudging his arm excitedly. "It's cool, isn't it?"

"That your own top?"

The semblance of glee she felt slowly began to drain from her body. Bobbi ran her teeth over her tongue before she turned to nod at Filipa. There was both a hint of jealousy and some pride swimming in the depths of the dark brown eyes and a small smile crossed the woman's lips.

"Honestly, I'm a bit jealous," she murmured slowly, running a hand across the back of her neck. "But you do deserve it."

"She'll be gunning for Diva of the Year next thing we know," Bray teased, trying to ease the already awkward atmosphere, "gonna have to step your game up, Pip."

But the younger woman just smiled. "And if she wins that, she'll deserve it too." Filipa paused and let her eyes drop to the floor, wrung her hands together. "Can we talk, Bob? After the show? I need to apologise properly and I want to do it between the two of us."

"Sure."

—

She didn't know why, but moments before the ladder match, Bobbi had pulled her wrestling gear on. She wasn't set to go out. She wasn't set to do _anything_ , in fact. But maybe she could pester her way into an interview after one of the ladder matches that they would used for a fallout clip. So she sat watching with her leather faux leggings, the usual thick heeled boots, the blue wrap bustier, and of course— her knew shirt. She got giddy just looking at it.

Everything was going _fine_. In fact, the ladder match that was going on was fucking entertaining. She hadn't enjoyed something this much for a while, and watching Kofi Kingston in _anything_ was bound to be glorious. He just looked— _weightless_.

Dean looked good, Seth looked good (even though part of her still wanted to smash his face in), even Dolph looked good (though honestly, he looked good all the time).

The start of the match had seen Dean and Seth spill over the barricades in the first couple of seconds. Back and forth between the three men in the ring, and Bobbi was enjoying watching it with the crowd of people that were surrounding her. And even though she knew Seth was going to win, part of her was praying that Vince would have a change of mind and give it to Dean.

But as soon as Dean climbed to the top of that ladder and crashed down with Seth in a superplex, she knew, she _knew_. She could see the agony in his eyes. The blood drain from his face, the silent scream.

"Bobbi?"

She'd lurched upright and there was a hand at her mouth, and Bray and Roman were staring at her quizzically, almost concerned— like _she_ was the one that was injured. "His shoulder," she said softly. "It's not good. It's not going to last him the match."

"Dean knows his limits…" Roman trailed off. He knew that Dean was always the last one to throw in the towel when he was injured.

So she sat perched on the edge of the chair.

He didn't last for much longer. Tried pushing the ladder to throw Seth off balance, but couldn't put any pressure on the socket. He shoved himself into the corner and that was that. Doctors swarmed him, referees trying to pull him out of the ring.

For what felt like a long moment, Bobbi held her face between her hands. He was so stupid, such a _fucking idiot_ by not making sure his shoulder had healed properly. And now he was paying the price because of it. She'd told him how many times to look after it? Maybe she'd set a bad example when her ribs had been in horrible shape, but it wasn't like they'd been broken. She'd taken time off to heal them.

Bobbi could hear him. "Pop it back in, pop it back in, pop it back in— _I said pop it back in right now!"_

For fucks sake, he wasn't going anywhere. He was so stupid. So _fucking_ stupid.

She didn't even wait for the boys to say anything, she was up and walking towards the gorilla position where they'd pull him in kicking and screaming if they had to.

He met her there.

But his eyes were glazed over in anger and he kicked the nearest wall he could, screaming as loud as he could.

"Dean!" she tried, reaching for his arm, "Dean, c'mon—"

"Don't you dare fucking tell me to calm down," he hissed at her aggressively, turning to shove his face right into her personal space. "Don't you fuckin' _dare_."

"I was actually going to suggest going to Peaches to get your shoulder fixed."

His slate blue eyes softened then.

Stephanie and Triple H were waiting for them in the medical room and everyone that was present flinched as they popped Dean's arm back into place. The only thing Bobbi heard was his pained groan.

They tested his range of motion, adduction and abduction, rotation, how high he could lift his arm without it being in horrible pain. But when they asked him to put pressure on it— the socket popped right back out and his yell echoed through her mind. He couldn't do it. Physically, he couldn't go back out there and compete, Doc wouldn't let him and if Stephanie had to cuff him to the bed, she would.

"Please," he begged, "please, Stephanie— Hunter, I can finish this, just let me go back out there please—"

"No, no way," Triple H replied straight away. "No way you're going back out there. We've got too much invested in this feud coming up and you need to be one hundred percent. No way."

Bobbi can see the anger swirling in Dean's blue eyes and drags a hand through her silvery grey hair. He wasn't upset with Hunter— the man had a point. He was disappointed in himself. That he wouldn't get to finish the match and make it worth watching. She knew all his moves and what he was supposed to be doing and his absence would definitely throw off… the rest of the match… she _knew_ the spots. She'd even called a few of his. Her heart started to wildly thud in her chest.

"I'll go out."

Despite the way her hands were shaking, her voice was strong. Stephanie and Hunter turned to her with wide eyes, already trying to tell her that she couldn't, but her voice was louder than theirs.

"Think about it," she said slowly, pushing away from the wall. "I go out in place of Ambrose. I know the spots, I know what to do. I can do it. And the reaction— the first _ever_ woman to be in a Money In The Bank ladder match. Don't you see? You told me that I drew attention, that I was worth investing in because people paid attention to me. Letting me go out there? _That_ is how you get people interested again. That's how you get your rating spike."

Stephanie was staring at her with incredulous eyes, barely even blinking. "Do you know how much pain being in a ladder match causes you?"

"Not exactly," Bobbi smirked, "but I'm about to find out. Go on, send me out. The match is ruined if there's no one out there to fill that void."

And Triple H was looking at her with consideration, his head just slightly tilted, eyes narrowed. "Alright. Go do it."

"Hunter, you can't be serious—"

"I'm being serious." He turned to Bobbi fully and folded his arms across his chest. "You go out there and you do it how you feel. You know the spots. If you don't feel comfortable, don't do it."

Heart in her throat, Bobbi turned to Dean. He was less angry now, more a look of disbelief on his face. And then a smirk ripped across his cheeks. "Go knock 'em dead. Also, if you hurt yourself, I'm never letting you take my spot again."

 _Stay safe_. Said in the most Ambrose way possible.

The crowd were chanting for Ambrose. They wouldn't get him… but most of them were going to like his replacement.

Now that she and the COO were alone and waiting in the gorilla, Bobbi couldn't stop the shaky breath from leaving her mouth. Her hands were still shaking. Triple H noticed, placed a reassuring and heavy hand on her shoulder. "You got this," he said lowly. "We're sending Kane out at the end, but I want you to hit him with that enzuigiri you hit me with. Climb that ladder with Seth, grab it at the same time. Whoever comes down with it keeps it."

She felt like she couldn't breathe, because as soon as the information was being processed, he was gone.

His voice was loud as it reverberated through the arena. "As Dean Ambrose is _unable_ to continue in this match, just so he doesn't feel left out— we've found a replacement for him. Good luck, you're gonna need it."

He walked back out to the sound of his music and clapped her back, shot her a parting wink. "Let's see what you're made of."

Maybe this was his way of killing her. Maybe. If she survived this, she'd seriously question her own sanity.

She was going to die.

Her theme blared through the speakers and there was silence as the crowd waited for the joke to be over. But as she stepped through that curtain with a curve to her lips, they realised there was no joke. Bobbi Arlett was going to take Ambrose's spot in the match. At first, there was a loud scream. Then, more. Soon enough the arena was chanting for her. And it was kind of overwhelming.

But one foot moved in front of the other as she sauntered her way to where Seth Rollins was now staring at her with wide eyes.

Between her hands was a steel chair. He didn't have time to protect himself as she slammed it into his ribs, he was too confused. But suddenly he understood, suddenly he realised that she was exactly what Triple H had said— she was Dean's replacement.

So he bent over and yelled in agony, let Bobbi drive the steel into his back once more. Again. He was writhing on the mat now and she let out an angry scream as she finally got her revenge, driving the chair down into his shoulder again and again and again and again.

And then when she knew he wouldn't get back up, Bobbi tangled both hands into his wet hair and almost literally threw him from the ring.

Now… now it was just her and the ladder. Pale green eyes focused on the tall ladder and she took just the shortest moment to glance up at the golden briefcase. That was one _hell_ of a long way up. Good thing she wasn't really afraid of heights.

Her legs did most of the work as she crawled towards the top of the ladder. But she wasn't quick enough.

That was when flames erupted from the ring posts.

Her jump of shock was visible and a wide-eyed gaze was thrown over her shoulder. But she shoulder have been watching below her. A hand wrapped around her ankle and she was tugged unmercifully from the steel, plunging towards the mat below. The breath was pushed from her lungs as she landed, open-mouthed and gazing at the ceiling through barely open eyes. Seth Rollins was standing above her, mocking her, telling her that she would never be good enough.

Bobbi rolled over onto her side and sucked in a loud breath, grabbed at the small of her back. Kane was blundering down the walkway. Eyes locked _right_ on her.

Rolling his way into the ring, he didn't give her any more time. A hand was wrapped around her throat, an arm slung over his shoulder. Seth was watching with a giddy smile on his face. He wanted her pain, he wanted her to be put out of action, just like what had happened with Dean.

Yet Kane hesitated.

Bobbi capitalised. She hitched a boot up on his hip and pushed away at the same time as she jumped, threw herself backwards and away from the masked monster, but swung her opposite leg up just in time to catch him on the side of his head with a heavy boot.

He crumpled almost lifelessly to the mat.

Once more Bobbi was staring across at Seth, no other wrestlers even close to getting into the squared circle— just them and the climb.

Rollins was the first to reach the steel, but Bobbi wasn't far behind. She gritted her teeth and pushed through the pain, tried to match his pace as they climbed the ladder, tried to get one step up on him. But they reached the briefcase at the same time and she couldn't _think_ because the audience was screaming at her so loudly.

And above it, she could still hear Seth screaming at her. "Get your hands off _my_ briefcase! I am the _future!_ "

"Future my ass," Bobbi growled at him.

They fumbled for possession of the golden rectangle. Fingers twisting and hands swatting and pulling, and somehow the hatch was pulled open, the cable swinging loose and away from them— and she realised with a start that they'd just pulled the Money In The Bank briefcase free from the hook.

His wide brown eyes met her, already shaking his head, "no, no, no, this is _mine_ , you're not even supposed to be in this match—"

Bobbi tugged them both sideways.

A roar reverberated through the TD Garden.

Everything was so fast yet so slow. But his fingers slipped off of hers. And as she fell back to earth, the golden briefcase was being clutched against her chest. She hit the canvas with it in her hands. For a moment, all she could see were the stars circling around her.

Then the sound of the bell ringing. The sound of her music. Lilian saying "Here is your winner; _Barbara Arlett!_ "

And Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Seth was looking at her now like he was a fish out of water. Kane was imitating the reaction. She was beyond shocked and it showed, but then… the biggest shit-eating grin she could muster was pushing against her cheeks.

—

Filipa was waiting for Bobbi when she scurried her way into the Diva's locker room. God, avoiding people with the golden briefcase was like being a fly navigating a million spiders' webs at the same time. And even when she walked into the room with a nervous glance around, there was silence as the women looked at her.

"Hey," she murmured to Filipa, legs carrying her to her suitcase. "Is it okay if we talk on the ride back to the hotel?"

The younger woman was nodding right away. "Yeah, of course. Just— let me send Seth a message and I'll see you outside."

Thin hairs on the back of Bobbi's neck stood on end but Filipa had already ducked out of the room. Seth would be _pissed_ that things had gone down the way it had, but… was it karma? Was karma that weird simultaneous sense of satisfaction and guilt? Probably. He was supposed to win that contract, but it was Bobbi's fingers that had been around the case when they both fell.

She didn't feel safe.

Not here, not in this room where eyes were still boring into the back of her head and whispers were floating dangerously.

The silver-haired woman pulled a loose black shirt on over her wrestling top and threw her hair up in a messy pony tail, tossed everything else into the blue suitcase and got the hell out of dodge without even looking back. Dodging eyes, sticking to shadows, keeping herself away from prying reporters. For now, even avoiding Dean was a priority— at least until she got back to the hotel.

Filipa was once more standing by her rental car. But she wasn't alone. Seth Rollins' eyes narrowed.

She ignored him. "Your car or mine?"

"We'll take yours," Filipa murmured. She squeezed Seth's arms and then moved away from him, sending one pointed look back over her shoulder.

They were both walking away, but then his voice rang out. "Guess that makes us a little more even now, yeah?"

Bobbi paused. It was true. She'd ruined his golden boy chances, even if only for a night. Threw a spanner in his plans. Betrayed him, in a way. A little more even? Yeah, maybe. So she raised an eyebrow and glanced over her shoulder, smirked a little. "Guess so. Not gonna apologise, though."

"Didn't expect you to," he replied with a matching smirk.

And then Bobbi stretched out the olive branch. "You doin' CrossFit tomorrow?"

"Yeah…"

"Come get me before? I'll text you my room number."

His eyes widened and then he was smiling and nodding enthusiastically, saying "yeah, yeah, sure, of course!"

It wasn't until they were further away and out of earshot that Filipa raised a dubious eyebrow. "Have you forgiven him?"

"Dunno," Bobbi breathed. "But I'm sick of not being on the same page as everyone else. No more hardships, no more beating around the bush. I mean…" she sighed and unlocked the car, waited until they were both seated and driving away before continuing. "I still get this sick feeling in my stomach when I think of it, but— I want to be over it. Face the problem head on, that kinda shit, right?"

Filipa nodded at her, shifted in the seat so her body was facing her friend. "I get it." A pause. Then, "is that why you're letting this happen?"

"Yeah. Plus, I do miss you. Even though you're a shithead." It was Bobbi's turn to pause. "And you're the only person I trust right now."

Her friend snorted. "Got that right," she murmured. "How many times do I need to apologise? Is it time to grovel? Buy you a Lamborghini or something? You know I will."

"God no," Bobbi laughed. "You'd actually do it."

"You know I would."

"No, I just… I don't understand where any of that came from."

"How much time do we have?"

She frowned, glanced at the GPS on the dashboard. "Ten minutes, give or take."

"God, I need longer than that. Also I need a drink or two to comprehend the fact that you just won Money In The Bank."

A strangled laugh ripped through Bobbi's throat. "I can't even— why don't we just drive to Hartford?"

Filipa was silent and just for a moment Bobbi was confused— but then she realised the woman was tapping out the address for the XL Center and getting directions. "It's only an hour and forty away… I mean, not that bad."

"And we do need to catch up…"

"Should I tell Seth you're cancelling on him?" The smile in Filipa's voice was almost visible.

"Text Dean as well, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

—

For almost the next two hours, Bobbi and Filipa cleared the air between them as best they could. There was no excuse, but Bobbi accepted the few Filipa used— the constant travel putting her under a lot of stress, being taken away from TV time, dealing with her emotions about Seth… she had feelings for the man. Bad, bad feelings. And on top of that, she was jealous of Bobbi. But she let that one slide.

And when morning rolled around and Bobbi woke up in the hotel room they'd put under a company credit card, her eyes wouldn't leave the golden briefcase.

She couldn't believe it. That she owned such a thing of prestige, that she'd won by the skin of her teeth. She knew they were going to take it off her, but in the mean time… she could have her fun. Like take multiple selfies with it next to her smug face.

 _WWEBobbiArlett: what a wonderful time to be alive… come find me, Trips #goldenbriefcase #hellonheels_

One of the photos was attached to the tweet and within seconds of sending it out, hundreds of replies and favourites and retweets were pouring in. And against her better judgement, she looked at them.

A lot were questioning whether it was kayfabe or planned. There were people who congratulated her, sending her love, giving her praise and telling her how proud they were that she was the first woman to ever hold the golden opportunity in her hands. And… there were those who hated just the mere thought of it. Because she was a woman— because she didn't have a dick between her legs. The same people that wanted her to go wrestle with the other Diva's.

No. No, if she had it her way, she would continue to flit between the two.

And in the mean time? She was still the Money In The Bank winner.

* * *

 **BET YOU DIDN'T SEE THAT ONE COMING! I'VE HAD THIS PLANNED FOR MONTHS! (sorry about the wait, i've been really stressed about my Uni exam, but thought it was about time I powered my way through this :)!)**

 **to quinzel harley (I couldn't resist... and I may not be able to resist a Bobbi/Seth match. drunkDean is also one of my favourites! hope you enjoyed how I wrote this match, let me know if anything seems out of place or odd!), Raquel the writer (he's adorbs!), and labinnacslove (do you think Bobbi did the right thing by talking to Filipa? thanks for the words, hope you enjoyed this chapter!), thank you so much for the reviews as they really mean the world to me! Let me know what you think of this.**

 **much love xx**


	5. Chapter 5

Dean had been texting her for most of the morning. He was driving down with Roman, the two hour trip leaving him bored and irritable. And apart from him, she'd been ignoring everyones messages. There was only one call she was going to pick up on and that was Hunter Hearst Helmsley. He was the one that told her they would deal with it if she came down with the briefcase, so he was the one she was most likely to trust.

But Bobbi hadn't been the only one to win something golden last night. Roman, who had been involved in the WWE World Heavyweight Championship ladder match… he'd been the one to pull the golden and most prestigious title off the hook.

She'd not seen it, but the Samoan sent her an elated text message afterwards.

The phone hadn't even made a noise when Bobbi swiped to answer it.

"Hey," it was breathless and quiet, the woman standing to close herself in the connecting bathroom.

"Barbara Arlett!"

She hoped her gulp wasn't heard down the phone line. "Vince…"

"Don't worry, Bobbi, it's just the three of us here," Stephanie McMahon tried to say reassuringly.

"You and Vince and…"

"Hey, Bobbi."

"Right, Hunter." Part of her wanted to run and hide and stick her head into the ground somewhere. "Look, I don't even know what happened last night, but one minute Seth had his hands on it and the next I was on the ground with it—"

Hunter laughed. "It's alright, Bobbi. Originally, we did plan on Seth winning. But… this works. We can make this work really well, in fact, so you're not in trouble at all."

She breathed out a deep sigh of relief. "Okay, good. I took off as soon as the match was over so I didn't really get a chance to ask you about what's gonna happen tonight on RAW, but I had a few ideas if you want to hear them. And obviously you don't have to listen to them whatsoever if you don't like them…"

"Go ahead."

By the time Bobbi had finished explaining her ideas, there was the sound of knocking on the hotel room door. She stayed in the bathroom, waited for her friend to answer the door. Seriously— it was hard enough trying to keep on the down low, she didn't need people seeking her out in person to have a go at her.

Really, she hadn't done anything wrong. But the men would be upset because she was a female and the women would be upset because she was the first Diva to ever get it done, but… did they even consider her a Diva? Both Filipa and her had really never stepped into the ring with them for an actual feud. Not yet, anyway, and that wasn't about to change tonight. _Gah_ , the backstage politics in this company made her head spin.

"Bobbi, your boyfriend's here!"

 _Would Dean be happy for her?_ Or would seeing her face elicit another kind of disappointment from him?

She ducked her head around the bathroom door and assessed the way Filipa was standing between them. But all the anxiety she was feeling vanished when she saw that dimpled and cute grin on Dean's face.

"Hey there, my Money In The Bank winner."

Bobbi launched herself past Filipa and into his arms with an excited little scream (it was still hard to believe that she'd won, but him saying it just made her feel like she was the sun).

—

 **RAW**

 **June 30th, 2014**

 **Hartford, Connecticut**

For the past however long, it was The Authority who came out to introduce both the live audience and the watching audience to Monday Night RAW. Tonight, that was changing.

A recap of the previous night was shown— Dean injuring himself, Bobbi's smirk as she realised she'd won the golden briefcase (much to the chagrin of Seth Rollins and a masked Kane). And it showed the utter shock on Roman Reigns' face when he had won the WWE World Heavyweight Championship (Bobbi felt a shiver crawl down her spine when she heard Lilian say, "the winner and _new_ WWE World Heavy Weight Champion— _Roman Reigns!_ ").

When that finished, there was a moment of silence. Then the sound of white noise and a Shield-esque interruption of the feed to the tron.

Bobbi's face was next.

It was obvious that she was trying to hide, but there was an empty hallway behind her that looked dangerous. "I'm gonna make this real quick— last night? I stepped in for Dean Ambrose when they told him that he couldn't compete," she said quickly, "But here's the thing— they didn't put me in there because they thought I could win. They didn't _expect_ me to win! They thought that throwing a _woman_ into the mix would mean that The Authority was _guaranteed_ a victory! But _have you met me?_ No. Don't you guys worry, though, because by the end of the night, this briefcase?" she tapped the golden lid, "it's gonna be safely in the hands of Dean Ambrose. And until then… The Authority will just have to deal with the knowledge that their _investments_ lost last night— _all of them_."

"Here's some truth; I would give anything to put my fist through Triple H's face and through Stephanie McMahon's face." The silvery-haired women tilted her head, smirked. "So I'm putting out a challenge. At SummerSlam, I want to face Stephanie McMahon in a one on one match, winner takes all. And by 'winner takes all', what I really mean is that if I win? Stephanie McMahon is out of a job."

The darkened look in her eyes was almost murderous, but suddenly her mood shifted, arm raising to hold the Money In The Bank briefcase next to her head. "In the meantime, I'm going to make sure that Dean Ambrose keeps this nice and safe. Enjoy RAW, Hartford."

Bobbi threw a wink to the camera and thrust her hand into the lens.

—

The weird thing about being in a company where everything was kept hush-hush meant that _everything_ was kept hush-hush and sometimes — much like when Seth turned on them — it meant that it was safer to never ask than to go looking for answers.

Like right now, for instance.

There had been a flash of wavy brown hair and thighs that looked like they were carved from stone and Bobbi didn't know _anything_ about the woman returning, but Paige seemed oddly curious.

"Was that AJ?"

"You should go ask her."

Paige hummed and glanced around the gorilla and Bobbi noticed when her grip on the butterfly title whitened. "She must know that I'm doing an open defence tonight." She turned to Bobbi then with a wide smile, wriggled her eyebrows. "You gonna come out and accept it, Arlett? We'd put on a killer match."

She couldn't argue with that— she and Paige were made of the same cloth, the kind that liked to put on a wrestling match, not just wrestle. They wanted the crowd to _care_ about every hit, every move.

"Nah," Bobbi finally said. "Think I'm gonna challenge Ro for that gold he's got."

"You've got the case for it."

The women smirked at each other.

A stagehand gave Paige the thumbs up and she raised her eyebrows once more, sucked in a deep breath. Then, at the sound of a bird and a heavy riff, the pale Brit was gone from sight.

When Bobbi turned around, the smaller AJ Lee was stretching against a wall, her perceptive brown eyes looking right into pale greens. AJ might have been a little crazy, but she wasn't stupid. And neither was Bobbi. Paige was holding an open challenge tonight for a shot at the Diva's title, much the same as AJ Lee had done after her defence at WrestleMania earlier in the year.

"Does Paige know?"

AJ tilted her head slowly. And pointedly ignored the question. "Sorry to hear about The Shield, Barbara."

"No, you're not," Bobbi said, the side of her mouth curving slowly.

"I mean, I would be if I were you. All those pretty boys off fighting their own battles now. Without you. Try not to feel like you've been left out to dry, okay, honey? I'm sure soon enough they'll realise how good you are." AJ's eyes widened considerably and she stepped away from the concrete wall, right up to Bobbi, and even though she was a couple inches shorter, they still stood eye to eye. "Maybe they'll even let you in a match with me. Imagine what a privilege that would be."

Bobbi still had that half smile, but her eyes were now dancing in icy amusement. "Imagine that."

"Good to see that you're still holding onto that briefcase, too— gotta stay relevant somehow, right? Anyways," the woman drew out, "time to go win my baby back. Toodle-loos."

And, because she could reach, AJ lifted her hand and patted the silvery-haired woman on the head like Bobbi wasn't inclined to rip her arm away from her body.

Even though she and AJ Lee had a mutual point of interest in Phil Brooks, Bobbi had never really gotten to know the shorter woman, hadn't even thought of being anything more than work acquaintances. But maybe something had shifted between them.

Just like she said, AJ had conned her way into the match and won the title back, becoming a three time Diva's Champion. Paige looked distraught and AJ looked like a kid on Christmas day, smiling with her head tilted down. But then Bobbi's feed of the arena cut and the TV was now filled with Triple H, Seth Rollins and Randy Orton.

She wasn't really listening, more watching with one eye at the people who were glaring at her as they walked past, but she got the general gist— a match at Battleground between Seth and Dean, a match at the pay-per-view between Roman and Randy. And then the main event for the night.

But her mind had stopped working when she heard Roman's name. _Roman_. The WWE World Heavyweight Champion.

A smile split across her cheeks.

She needed to go and congratulate the man.

—

It wasn't until Seth was in his match against Rob van Dam that Bobbi managed to push her way into the catering room and lock her eyes onto Roman Reigns. She expected him to be beaming at her, like he hadn't expected last night to go the way it did at all— him, _the_ champion, her, the briefcase holder (however really, _technically_ , Dean was the briefcase holder).

"Roman!"

At first, he didn't turn at the sound of her voice. He was haunched over, head resting on closed fists, and it was only when she called his name again that he finally turned to regard her. His pale eyes were puffy and red.

"Roman?" said Bobbi, her head tilted and a certain softness to her tone. "Have you been—"

"Hayfever."

"Bullshit."

The Samoan smirked at the tone of her voice and thumbed the side of his nose. "I haven't even had it a day."

"Had what?"

"The title."

 _Oh_.

Bobbi sat on the chair opposite him, ducked to catch his eyes once more. He looked devastated. "They're taking it away from you already?"

He nodded.

"I haven't even had a chance to say congratulations…"

A small grin spread across his face at that and his eyes dipped to the golden case she was clutching. "I haven't had a chance to congratulate you, either. When did you and Trips concoct that plan?"

"Not like we planned it," Bobbi replied in a small voice. Not like she was trying to defend herself, just that— well, maybe she was. No one else seemed to accept what had happened during the pay per view and some were questioning Triple H and Stephanie McMahon, even Vince. "Dean got hurt and I knew the end and they just let me… do my thing, I guess. It just— Seth let go and I didn't."

Silence surrounded them. Roman's eyes were dropped back to the WWE World Heavyweight Title that was sitting on the table between them and he let go of a long sigh, dragged a hand down across his beard.

"Who're they giving it to?"

"Lesnar."

Bobbi tried not to blanch at the name, but Roman saw her shocked reaction and raised his shoulders, closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. "Dunno what they're thinking, Bob, got no _fuckin'_ idea why they think this is better than me holding onto it."

He never swore— that's how she knew that this was really getting to him. "When?"

"SummerSlam. I retain against Orton, drop to Lesnar. I'd rather fuckin' drop to Orton."

"I know."

Bobbi opened her mouth again, ready to try and console him, but her eyes lifted at the sound of the crowd. Dean had interrupted the match between Seth and RVD, but he was out there without the briefcase and smiling like he knew exactly what Seth wanted to get his hands on. And by the time that little segment was over, Roman had dropped the topic and was fiddling with his phone, probably sending messages to his little girl.

This company had a way of fucking over the people who deserved the most, and _that_ was something she knew even before Phil had left the company.

The following match was Sheamus and the Usos going up against the Wyatt Family, Filipa cutting a promo after their win on the lack of females worth fighting— something to explain her absence, probably, but at least now she was getting television time. (Really, Bobbi wasn't insulted about the 'lack of competition' on Filipa's end; they'd already had their feud and it was time to move on.)

"I gotta go get ready for the tag match," Roman said slowly as he stood, stretching out his back with a grunt.

Bobbi shifted her gaze from the TV to the Samoan. "Want some insurance? We both know that's not gonna end without a disqualification."

"If it's looking bad." The champion sent her a wink and walked off in the direction of the gorilla, leaving Bobbi sitting by herself in what was quickly becoming a hostile room.

More than a few of the superstars had left, but the ones that were left were staring at her like she was the enemy and it was making her skin crawl. She didn't need to go change— the faux leather joggers were in place, as were her thick boots and tank top, so she didn't have that as an excuse. Maybe she could go and find Dean.

"Hey."

 _Or maybe he would just find her._ Bobbi let go of the breath she was holding and smiled at him as he took the seat his best friend had just vacated. Slowly, Bobbi laid the briefcase on the table and slid it over to him. "Guess this is yours, now."

"Guess so."

When he didn't look away from her, Bobbi let her eyes fall back to the screen. "Ro tell you they're giving the title to Lesnar?"

"Seriously?!" Apparently, Dean was just as shocked as she had been. "That mean that Heyman's back, too?"

"No idea. Don't really wanna stay in the same room long enough to find out."

"You're not a Paul Heyman girl?"

"You a Paul Heyman guy?"

He snorted at her. "Of course I am!"

"He's sleazy!"

"And one hell of a talker!"

"Which makes it worse! All he's gonna do is drone _on_ and _on_ about how Lesnar's the _one_ in twenty-one and one, how he destroyed the streak, blah blah blah— same old shit."

Dean was staring at her like she'd grown a second head. "You know this is a deal breaker for me, right?"

"What, I'm a Paul Heyman girl or we're over?" Bobbi was smirking back at him with an eyebrow raised. "How long you reckon that's gonna last, stud? Think you can survive without the sex for that long?"

His pout gave away everything, and Bobbi found herself giving him a genuine smile before turning back to the screen broadcasting the tag match with Reigns and Cena going up against Orton and Kane. And just like she'd thought, halfway through the match, the Authority's theme resounded throughout the arena, Seth walking out behind the COO and his wife.

"Wanna go kick some Authority ass?"

"Is the sky blue?"

The two shared a look as Dean scooped the briefcase off the counter, and then his taped shoulder was slung around her waist like it belonged there.

But his shoulder wasn't fine. Just from the bags under his eyes, Bobbi knew that Dean's sleep had been restless and painful. Just like her, he didn't take pain medication unless it was absolutely necessary (their reasons were different, but they understood without having to ask).

It was Dean's new theme that they walked out to and the sound of the live audience when they realised who it was— it was _deafening_.

The side of her hair was tightly wound in three small braids, the rest loose in wavy curls, pale green eyes glinting with mischief and fire, and beside her, Dean was obnoxiously chewing his gum, arm still tight around her waist. And further down the ramp, Seth Rollins looked like his head was about to explode; the people who should have been buried were standing tall like the king and queen of the mountain.

Because that's what they were.

Together, they walked the length of the ramp until Hunter, Stephanie and Seth were on one side and she and Dean the other— and Roman's appreciative nod in their direction didn't got unnoticed, either.

"Hold this?"

Bobbi barely had time to wrap her fingers around the briefcase before Dean was sprinting off in the direction of Seth Rollins.

The audience was torn between watching their WWE World Heavyweight Champion or watching their Money in the Bank winner, the tron flicking between the two as quickly as it could to show the developments— Seth running into the crowd, Dean chasing him, Cena tagging Reigns into the match as Kane tagged in Orton, the flurry of heavy hits and heavier looks.

It took Bobbi a moment to realise that Stephanie had gotten her hands onto a microphone and was speaking to her. "You think you're so clever, don't you? Think because you got _lucky_ last night that you can run around here and do whatever you want— but you can't. And that _lunatic_ Ambrose won't always be around to protect you, either. You're gonna fall flat on your face, Arlett, and you'll have no one to blame but yourself." Stephanie raised her chin. "You wanna hit me? C'mon, then; _hit me!_ "

Without really thinking, Bobbi chanced a look at where John Cena was recuperating just off the apron. "Cena!" He looked up at her just as she threw the briefcase at him, and then she was yelling out, "I'm comin' back for that, y'hear me?"

And then she was sauntering around the ring, green eyes ablaze as she stared at Stephanie McMahon. "You want me to hit you? You want me to _hit you?_ Ruin that pretty li'l face of yours, huh?"

Granted, the woman stood her ground with her chin raised defiantly.

Time seemed to slow as Bobbi raised her arm, twisted her shoulders, hand clenched into a fist, but her movements were too predictable. Triple H caught her arm with a smug looking grin and Stephanie raised her own palm, slapped it against Bobbi's cheek so loudly the sound echoed around them.

And then time did stop. The audience was deathly quiet, the match in the ring on time out. The whole world was watching to see what Bobbi's reaction was going to be.

Slowly, she raised a hand to caress the tender flesh. And when she turned her head back around to stare at them through silvery hair, her eyes could have turned them to stone. Bobbi looked ready to pull them limb from limb without remorse.

"You wanna do this?" she slowly asked, "you wanna play this game? It's gonna end one of two ways. You walking away over my cold, dead body, or you losing your entire life's work. So come on— I've always wanted to look death in the eye; I've got nothing to lose."

Triple H still had a grip on her closed fist, but it was like he wasn't even there.

It was just Stephanie McMahon and Bobbi Arlett in this moment, and no one else. Steely blue on pale green, matching snarls.

"You want me at SummerSlam?" She pursed her lips, nodded, tilted her head just the slightest. "You got your match. But if I win— you work for _us_."

The corner of Bobbi's mouth tugged up, and so quickly even Stephanie flinched, she raised a leg and planted her foot in the centre of Hunter's torso, shoved him back with so much force he stumbled into the announce table.

"Oh, and by the way…"

Bobbi's head barely managed to turn back to Stephanie before a sharp pain exploded on the back of her head. The silvery haired woman flew forwards onto the ground, clutching at her head, her entire face pulling in pain. And as she glanced up, she almost couldn't believe her eyes. _Almost_.

Because, looking as smug as she'd ever been, golden skin and thighs carved of marble, AJ Lee stood next to Stephanie McMahon with her face full of glee, her fingers clutching at the butterfly title, the Diva's Championship obviously what she'd hit Bobbi with. She looked like she'd won the fucking lottery— winning her title back, knocking the wild card out and join forces with the Authority… the returning Diva had had the perfect night.

And while Bobbi had gotten her match with Stephanie at SummerSlam, she felt like she'd lost this battle.

* * *

 **okay, sorry doesn't even begin to cut it with the wait you guys have had for this chapter... but, while i've not been writing this, i finished uni, got a part time job, finished a book... yeah, i'm still really sorry. and i'm sorry about how shitty this chapter turned out, too. but AJ? gotta love some crazy, plotting AJ :)**

 **to my beautiful reviewers _quinzel harley_ , _Raquel the writer_ , and _labinnacslove_ , thank you so much for the support and i hope you guys are still reading this**

 **much love xx**

 **(please tell me you guys are still reading this?)**


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